


A Lovely Birthday

by notjustmom, scrub456



Series: John and Sherlock's Excellent Adventure [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, birthday fic, grumpy birthday boy, written by grumpy birthday girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:59:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for my lovely καρδιά αδελφή (heart sister) NovaNara who shares my birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NovaNara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Reality Bites](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552564) by [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom), [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456). 



> This birthday song was found on a language site and the brief phrases and words listed below are from Google Translate, we apologise to any native speakers for any unintended abuses <3
> 
> Να ζήσεις Ο γιατρός John και χρόνια πολλά  
> μεγάλος να γίνεις με άσπρα μαλλιά  
> παντού να σκορπίζεις της γνώσης το φως  
> και όλοι να λένε να ένας σοφός 
> 
> May you live Dr. John and happy birthday  
> may you grow up and your hair turn white  
> may you spread everywhere the light of knowledge  
> so everyone will say: he is a wise man.
> 
> Αγαπητός = Beloved
> 
> Ανάθεμα = Damn
> 
> Που? Δείξε μου = Where? Show me.
> 
> Σε αγαπώ, καρδιά μου = I love you, my heart
> 
> Χρειάζεστε λίγο αέρα , θα είναι πίσω σύντομα = Need some air, will be back soon
> 
> Πώς είναι ο καθένας στο σπίτι? = How is everyone at home?
> 
> η καρδιά μου, ένα μου, μόνη μου = my heart, my one, my only
> 
> γέρος = old man
> 
> Τι σκέφτεσαι, η καρδιά μου? = What are you thinking, my heart?
> 
> πάρα μένα, η αγάπη, κι εγώ, όλα αυτά = Me too, love, me too.

John had been grumpy all week. It was his last day at the surgery; he wished he could just roll over and...Sherlock's side was empty, and cold, like he had been up for hours already.

"Η καρδιά μου?"

He sighed and threw off the covers, it was the last day of March and his forty-fifth birthday. "Birthdays..." He had loved birthdays, until his mother's death when he was eight and she had been only forty-four. Shit. He had officially lived longer than his mum had. He couldn't recall a single decent birthday since that last one...even Harry had given him something nice, and had been sweet to him.

"Αγαπητός?" No answer. 

He shook his head, and tried to recall the dream he had last night, it was a blurr of Victorian with bits of the village, Νικό pointing at the stars; "Που? Δείξε μου?" Sherlock was trying to tell him something, there was a slight hint of the shag tobacco...Shower, get dressed, tea...work...last day, then he could be here, here, not home, but still, their flat, his heart was here, so it was close enough. 

He showered, then took his time dressing, in the deep indigo shirt that Sherlock said was his favourite, threw on his warmest jumper, as it was still winterish outside, and went in search of tea. Sherlock's coat, scarf and his boots were missing. "Ανάθεμα!" He went to look out the window, and sure enough, it was snowing. A blizzard for his birthday. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Tea. Tea was definitely necessary. Toast with preserves....honey, a new shipment was due to arrive today, if the snow didn't...

He almost missed the small box on the counter. It was a tiny, delicately inlaid wooden box, could have been Victorian, though probably, very early Edwardian... he lifted it to his nose and inhaled a memory of the antique shop. Sherlock had paid for the violin and shooed Alex and John out the door, then stepped back in for a moment, returning with a smile on his face, that shy, boyish grin that did something odd to John's heart. He had grabbed John's hand and whistled a bit of the song he had been working on...was still working on... and they had gone back to the party, Alex had become the center of attention, beaming as only a five year old with an ancient treasure and brand new friend can.

He returned to the present and opened the box. Inside was a tiny, perfectly shaped sand dollar, with a small piece of paper underneath. His breathing slowed, the stresses fell away as he read Sherlock's minuscule, nearly illegible scrawl.

John - Χρόνια πολλά (I wish you to live many years)  
This paper is too small to hold all of my wishes for you.  
More surprises later. Σε αγαπώ καρδιά μου  
Meet me at Angelo's for dinner? 6pm?

It was funny, Sherlock had taken against texting since their return. Lestrade had growled his surprised annoyance, but very quickly learned that if he required the detective, he would have to send John a text, or appear in person. But John enjoyed the little messages he would find in the morning, a bit of poetry, or a request for some odd ingredient for some experiment; most days, he would simply find:

"Σε αγαπώ καρδιά μου" on a scrap of paper on top of his laptop, next to his cup of tea, or stuck to the freezer door, along with, "Need more olives, I miss Ioanna's bread and honey cake, is it June yet? I love you." 

Once in a while, he would find "Χρειάζεστε λίγο αέρα, θα είναι πίσω σύντομα." John would lay back in bed, and send Sherlock a dream, that is what they called it, when one of them needed time, the other somehow was able to dream of them at sunset, barely touching fingers, breathing together, then they knew the other was safe. The first time, it was two days, two days of focusing his heart and mind on his friend, trying to trust himself and his heart. Sherlock came back after two days, found John working a late shift at the surgery, waited until his last patient left, then walked into John's office, and without a word, offered John his hand, and they caught a cab home. Sherlock didn't speak until they had undressed and John was almost on the edge of sleep, his cheek resting against Sherlock's heartbeat, their fingers entwined. 

"You trusted me. You let me just go, John, you knew I'd be back, I've never had anyone believe in me like that, like you do. I was just so..."

"I know. I know, η καρδιά μου, I know you. I know your καρδιά, I know when you are too full, and you need space. I knew you would be back when you were ready."

Great, Sherlock had gone walkabout on his birthday.

 

Hey - Happy Birthday, John - where's your other half? - GL

Your guess is as as good as mine, got a case? - JW

Nope, just checking to see if you two were tucked in during the storm - GL

We aren't, well, yeah we- JW

No worries, he's a different guy since you've been back, even Donovan's noticed, doesn't matter what you guys do or don't do - GL

Ta fer that, I think ;) - JW

Just be safe out there, it's gonna be one of those storms. - GL

Great. You too. - JW

 

He called the surgery, they said he shouldn't come in, they were closing early, and they wished him a happy birthday and whatever else would be happening next for him and Sherlock.

"Anything is possible, sometimes improbable, but very little is impossible." He thought to himself. Or at least he thought he had thought it to himself. Sherlock was standing in front of him offering him a small bowl of the most perfect cherries he'd ever seen in his life.

"How?"

"Ioanna. She works magic."

John picked the shiniest, reddest cherry he'd ever seen in his life and placed it against Sherlock's smiling, chattering lips, then slipped it into his mouth. "I love you."

Sherlock gazed at John in a way that made his brain shut down. "One more big surprise, in a few minutes, is there tea? I'm -"

"frozen, you idiot." John rolled his eyes and sighed as Sherlock shook the melted snow from his hair and pulled off his sodden coat, and scarf, slipped off his boots and grinned at John. "Going to grab a shower, need to warm up first."

John leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. 

He looked in the fridge to see what was available for tea. He found a package of his beloved stuffed grape leaves, a plate of figs and the cured olives Sherlock could live on given the chance. He turned at a sudden knock at the door. No one usually bothered.

"Ο γιατρός John, Χρόνια πολλά!" She kissed on both cheeks and grinned at him. "Brrr....lovely weather on your day. You boys weren't kidding about the cold!"

"Μαμά!" John stared at Ioanna and blinked for a moment, then kissed her hand. "Πώς είναι ο καθένας στο σπίτι?"

"They are all well, they all miss both of you, Kya especially. She keeps visiting the cottage when I am working on the gardens..."

Sherlock came out then, looking polished if a little damp around the edges. "Μαμά! The car came on time?"

"Yes, interesting man, your brother, I'd forgotten what he was like."

"He met you at the airport?" John's jaw dropped.

"He drove."

"I didn't think he even knew how..." Sherlock whispered, his eyes twinkled in amused surprise.

"I invited him inside, but he said he had "urgent matters of inter-"

"-national urgency to deal with." Sherlock and John finished her sentence, and they all rolled their eyes. "He seemed pleased to remember me, and he asked after everyone."

"Is it time yet?" Ioanna asked after a moment. "This is will seem very odd."

John shot Sherlock a puzzled look.

"We, the village, decided to invest in some infrastructure changes, since your visit, we were able to get 'linked to the world' as Timótheos calls it...he is our 'expert' though Andreas thinks himself a genius because he can turn the switches on and off...the boys are so excited to be able to what is the word...Skype?"

John's jaw dropped again. "We get to see them? Tonight?"

"Now." Sherlock turned on his laptop, turned Skype on, and soon the entire village, at least those that could be seen through the tiny camera, appeared on their screen.

"Sherlock. You brought home to me, for my birthday...and Μαμά..." The tears that he had never shed for his mum flowed easily as Sherlock wrapped his arms around him, he could hear the village play and sing for him, especially Alex's violin and Niko's sweet voice:

Να ζήσεις Ο γιατρός John και χρόνια πολλά  
μεγάλος να γίνεις με άσπρα μαλλιά  
παντού να σκορπίζεις της γνώσης το φως  
και όλοι να λένε να ένας σοφός 

"Happy Birthday, η καρδιά μου, ένα μου, μόνη μου." Sherlock held him until his tears stopped, and the village could be heard and seen singing and dancing in John's honour. They stayed up late chatting with the boys until John began to yawn.

"Ο γιατρός John is an γέρος, needs his beauty sleep." Alex and Niko giggled, and blew them kisses and they all promised to see each other soon, then the screen went dark.

Ioanna had made them tea, and they sat quietly as they drank the sweet, soothing warm drink. "Very different from home, but I feel it is your place, as well." 

They both nodded, London was indeed part of them, as much as the village, but it was getting harder; they both needed more peace, more ocean, less 'dangerous,' and more kindness. Sherlock finished his tea and walked Ioanna down to Mrs. Hudson's flat, their 'not their housekeeper' was away taking care of her sister but had offered her flat to their visitor, and hoped someday to meet their 'Greek' mum.

John had rebuilt the fire and was staring into it when Sherlock returned. He wrapped his lanky arms around his blogger and tucked around him. "Τι σκέφτεσαι, η καρδιά μου?"

"I'm thinking how much I love you, how lovely and amazing and brilliant and - I'm honestly gobsmacked and I'm so tired, and yet not..."

"I have one more gift for you, η καρδιά μου, it is finally finished."

"Your song?" John's eyes spoke his love as Sherlock took his violin and bow from their case.

"No, John, your song, mmmm...honestly, it is our song, as we've never truly been without the other, we just never knew it until now."

John nodded and watched Sherlock's face change, and the music that came from the instrument was like nothing he had ever heard before, simply sweet with deep complex undertones, then sharply changing to a empty crushing sadness he knew, a feeling that had followed him most of his life, then it finally mellowed into a softness, a knowing, being known, being loved, understood, and not just accepted, but celebrated. Again, the tears flowed easily, but from Sherlock's eyes, this time as he finished the piece.

"πάρα μένα, η αγάπη, κι εγώ, όλα αυτά." John whispered as he took the bow and instrument from his hands, put them away carefully, then held him in his arms. "Πάντα και για πάντα."


End file.
